


Don't Need to Compromise

by Khashana, read by Khashana (Khashana)



Series: Directionverse [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blowjobs, Coming Out, Established Relationship, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Multi, Nonbinary Character, One Day At A Time S1-2 Spoilers, Podfic, Podfic Length: 1-1.5 Hours, Podfic and fic together, Polyamory Negotiations, Self-Discovery, Trans Female Character, Voyeurism, background ransom/holster/march/april/oc, first time saying I love you, handjobs, lots of March content here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 12:01:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18549364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khashana/pseuds/Khashana, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khashana/pseuds/read%20by%20Khashana
Summary: “Hey,” said Kent, unknowingly setting off a chain of events that would change his entire life, “you said that like you know from experience. Have you done this before?”Jack and Bitty have not done polyamory before, but they do know Ransom and Holster’s polycule, which contains March.And March?March is trans.





	Don't Need to Compromise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [halfdesertedstreets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfdesertedstreets/gifts).



> If you read the rest of this series before this fic came out, you'll recognize the opening scene from Three Birthday Surprises. You should go reread Three Birthday Surprises, because it's different now.  
> If you've just discovered the series, you're fine, ignore this note.

[Podfic here](https://khashanakalashtar.wordpress.com/portfolio/dont-need-to-compromise/)

Jack and Bitty talked extensively about how to ask Kent to be their boyfriend. Bitty shied away from just springing it on him, but Jack was vehement that there be nothing along the lines of ‘we should talk’. In the end, they were curled up together in the master bedroom, and Bitty said, “Kent, sweetheart. Would you be interested in officially dating us?”

Kent’s mouth dropped open. He closed and opened it a few more times before finally croaking, “Really?”

“Really,” said Jack.

“You’d open your marriage for me?” asked Kent. Then, quietly, “Why?”

Bitty’s heart broke a little for him.

“Because we care about you a lot, bud,” said Jack, petting his hair. “We’re already doing everything but calling it that. What makes this such a surprise?”

“That makes it sound like you’re in this for the long haul,” said Kent. “I kind of figured I was. Temporary.”

“I mean, it’s not a proposal,” chirped Jack gently. “But we want you to stick around, Kenny.”

“Oh,” said Kent. Then, “This is just my brain telling me I can’t have things I want, isn’t it?”

“Probably,” said Bitty, kissing him. “Tell the brain weasels to shush. And tell us yes.”

“Of course it’s yes,” said Kent, laughing a little. “Yes, I’ll be your boyfriend.” And he very abruptly burst into tears. Bitty and Jack made exclamations and gathered him impossibly closer. “I’m okay,” he gasped. “I’m okay. It’s just. A lot.”

They held him while he got himself under control.

“We’re gonna need rules,” Kent said finally. “You’re married. I’m going to need you to be really explicit about what includes me and what doesn’t, or I’m gonna drive myself insane.”

“Like, check-ins to make sure we’re communicating enough?” said Bitty. “That’s a good idea.”

“Proud of you, bud,” Jack murmured in Kent’s ear. “For knowing what you need from us to make this work, and asking for it.”

Kent covered his face with his hands like he was embarrassed.

“Maybe we could do a group session with Thérèse or Robin at some point,” suggested Bitty. “Or one with each of them.”

“Thérèse would be better, I think,” said Kent. “Robin’s a DBT specialist. They’d probably do relationship counseling if I asked, but that’s not really their job.”

“I’ll ask her,” promised Jack. “We’ll write a contract if we need to.” Kent snickered.

“Poly relationships are always tricky, and require a lot of communication,” Bitty said. “Especially when you’re joining a well-established couple like this.”

“And I’m uniquely complicated,” said Kent dryly. “Don’t even argue with me, that’s not self-deprecation, that’s objective fact.”

“Complicated’s fine with us, bud,” said Jack, and kissed him.

“Hey,” said Kent when Jack broke the kiss, “you said that like you know from experience. Have you done this before?”

“Hm?” said Jack.

“Said what?” asked Bitty.

“’Poly relationships are always tricky, and require a lot of communication, especially when you’re joining a well-established couple.’ Or something like that.”

“Oh,” said Jack. “We haven’t, but we’ve got college friends in a polycule. There’s _five_ of them.”

“Polycule,” said Kent. “I’m sorry, just. Polycule. That’s a hilarious word. Wait, did you say _five_? Can I meet them?”

***

Kent rang the doorbell, because Jack was carrying a large macaroni and cheese and Bitty was laden down with pies.

“Do you usually bring this much food when you’re invited to dinner somewhere?” he asked while they waited.

“When there’s eight people to feed, I do,” said Bitty. “April!”

“Hi, Bitty!” said April, taking the pies from him. “Come in!”

They trundled in through the door and congregated in the hallway. April handed the pies and then the mac and cheese off, and ushered them all into the dining room for a round of hugs and introductions.

“This is my girlfriend, May,” said April, and Kent shook hands with a slight woman with sparkling green eyes and dark roots to her blonde hair. 

“You probably don’t remember us,” said a gorgeous man with unfairly high cheekbones. “I’m Justin, or you can call me Ransom, and this is my boyfriend, Holster.”

“Adam, if we’re being official,” said a freaking giant with glasses who had even Jack beat in height. Kent shook hands with both of them.

“You went to college with Jack, right?”

Ransom grinned. “That’s us! Actually, all of us except May went to school together.”

A tall blonde woman entered just then, and pushed her way through the crowd to hug Jack and Bitty and shake hands with Kent.

“And this is March,” said April. “My other girlfriend, and Ransom’s girlfriend.” She wasn’t just _tall_ , Kent found as he shook her hand, she was taller even than him. And although Kent was short among hockey players, he was pretty average for an adult man.

“I’m sure you’ve all figured this out already, but I’m Kent,” he said in return, smiling at them. “It’s nice to meet you all.”

“Let’s _eat_ ,” said Holster.

***

Kent could see why Bitty had insisted on bringing a dish. The amount of food put away by him, Jack, Ransom, and Holster alone could have fed eight people, if the eight people were average-sized and didn’t play professional hockey.

“So you’re a triad now?” said Holster between bites of mac and cheese.

“That’s right. It’s very new,” said Bitty. “We haven’t told very many people yet.”

“Honored,” said Holster, pressing a hand to his heart.

“We’re a W,” volunteered Ransom. “Holster dates me, I date March, March dates April, and April dates May.” Kent’s eyebrows shot up as he registered the names all together for the first time.

“Hold the fuck up. March, April, May? How does that even happen?”

They all smiled with varying degrees of ruefulness. Kent realized that they probably got asked that a lot.

“Well, I decided we had to be friends because we were both calendar months,” started March, waving at herself and April. “And I grew on April eventually.”

“Eventually? We were best friends halfway through our first semester, and I was in love with you by sophomore year,” said April. March just shrugged. “Anyway, I ran into May at the fabric store, and she was still wearing her name tag from work, and she complimented my jacket, so I mentioned that my name was April cause I thought it was funny, and that was what really got us talking and making friends.”

“It was the most ridiculous thing,” said May, laughing to herself. “Here I am, crushing hard on a girl named April, and it sounds like fate, right? April and May? And then I find out she’s already dating the love of her life, who’s named _March_. So ironic.”

“So how’d you end up poly?” asked Kent curiously.

“Ransom and I dated back in college, and we split up when he graduated, and in the meantime he and Holster got together and April and I got together,” explained March. “Then we graduated, and moved to Boston, and we started seeing them all the time again, just like college, and nobody could ignore that we still had feelings for each other.”

“So April saved all our asses as usual by looking up polyam shit and sitting us all down and going ‘what if you two got back together but nobody broke up,’” put in Holster. “So we were already polyam when April met May.”

“And all bets were off, because if they were already open to polyam, then I had a shot,” said May. “Emotional whiplash, let me tell you.”

“Polyam?”

“Most people just say poly, but the Polynesian people got kinda pissed that their word for themselves meant polyamorous now,” said April. “And it’s whatever, no skin off our nose to add another syllable. Some people say polya, but that just sounds weird to me. Poly-uh.”

Kent wasn’t sure he would have cared what the Polynesian people thought, but he didn’t want to be rude, so he said nothing.

“We’re all queer as fuck, we know words are important,” said March, shrugging, as though she was reading Kent’s mind.

“Like what?” said Kent, instead of _what does that have to do with it_.

“Like how I’m _bi_ , not gay, and that’s important to me, even though I’m not dating any women now,” said Holster. “It’s a big part of my identity.”

“Like how I sleep with men, and technically I’m bisexual, but I’m also strictly homoromantic, I am never going to fall in love with a guy, and so I call myself a lesbian,” said May.

“Like how I’m trans, and I pass now, but there was a long time when I didn’t always, and hearing the wrong pronouns never hurt any less,” said March, looking serious, and the atmosphere was abruptly very tense. Bitty froze with a fork of mashed potato halfway to his mouth. Ransom’s shoulders stiffened. April appeared to put her hand on March’s knee, and May moved the forearm resting on the table to lean it against March’s.

Kent had the distinct sense that whatever he said next was very important. He was quiet for a long moment, staring at March and trying to get it right.

“I have borderline personality disorder,” he said at last, quietly, but still perfectly audible in the silence. “And that’s a label that freaks a lot of people out, because all they ever hear is horror stories, so I don’t tell people a lot. But it’s important to me that I have a name for it.”

March’s shoulders relaxed.

“Bro, if you just compared transness to a disease,” began Holster, and fuck, he hadn’t even thought of that, but March shook her head, still maintaining eye contact with Kent.

“He didn’t,” she said quietly. “He gave me back a vulnerability to match the one I gave him.”

The rest of the table relaxed. Bitty plonked his fork back down on his plate.

“Lord, I did not sign up for a conversation this heavy,” he sighed dramatically. “I vote it’s time for pie.”

There was immediate agreement, and the dining room exploded with the noise of chairs being pushed back, plates stacked, and silverware gathered. Kent leaned back in his chair, abruptly tired. Bitty set a piece of chocolate pie down in front of him, and he grinned up at his boyfriend. (His boyfriend! It was going to be awhile before that got old.) Bitty pecked him on the lips before darting back into the kitchen to cut the next pie.

“Pie in the living room,” proclaimed Ransom, so Kent hauled himself back to his feet and carried his plate and fork to the couch. March sat down next to him.

“My therapist is genderqueer,” Kent said. “Maybe I should have said that up front. That might’ve made more sense.”

“Nah, that sounds like ‘I’m not racist, I have a black friend,’” said March. “What you said was good. That’s cool about your therapist, though. Did they just up and tell you that when they introduced themselves?”

“Yup. Just, ‘Hi, my name is Robin, I’m telling you up front that I am not a woman, and the pronoun you should use for me is they or them. Is that going to be a problem?’ And I was confused, not gonna lie, but they basically said I don’t need to understand in order to respect their pronouns and not refer to them as a woman and that’s all they wanted from me. And we moved on.”

“Neat.”

“I still don’t really understand,” said Kent carefully, focused on his pie. “So could you just tell me, so I’m sure, what you want me to call you?”

“March, a woman, ‘she’, ‘her,’” said March promptly. “Which is all nine out of ten people need to know. I’m a bisexual trans woman, which means my birth certificate said male, and we call that ‘assigned male at birth,’ but I was a girl then and I’m a woman now. Sound good?”

Kent nodded and gave her a tired smile. “Thanks for understanding,” he said quietly.

“Not everybody knows the script, it’s okay, bro,” she said, and punched him lightly in the arm.

“How did you know?” Kent asked. She shrugged.

“I just did. Deep down inside, you ask yourself, am I a boy? And the answer was emphatically No. So then it became, am I a girl? And the answer was yes.”

Am I a girl? Kent asked himself. Just to try it.

“I can’t hear anything,” he said, and gave her half a smile. March snorted.

“It isn’t that easy for everyone.”

And Kent thought nothing of it.

In retrospect, that should have given him a clue.

“Here, gimme your phone,” said March, making grabby hands.

“Why?”

“So I can put my number in and we can text, dumbass.”

***

“It’s nice to see Kent getting along with March so well,” Bitty commented after they’d taken their leave and Kent had gone home. “Not that I thought he’d be an asshole on purpose, but, you know.”

“It’s easy to be an asshole by accident,” Jack filled in.

Bitty shivered. “Don’t I know it. I’m still a little afraid of April.”

***

_Hey,_ texted March, _what do you call a baby gay in Africa_

Kent stared at it for a moment. He hadn’t actually expected her to text. He spent a moment pondering that and then another moment trying to figure out the answer.

_Me: IDK what_  
_March: in denial_

He had to stare at it for a moment. Then he got it, and made an undignified giggle-snort noise. He sent her back the crying laughing emoji. She sent him back the grinning one.

Just for the hell of it, he sent her a YouTube link to Africa by Toto.

_I BLESS THE RAINS DOWN IN AFRICA_  
_have you read this rly interesting tumblr post about that song_  
_http://tinyurl.com/cnsodmd_

He clicked on it.

It was a Rickroll.

Kent stared at it for a moment, then buried his face in his hands to laugh helplessly.

_I like you_

She sent him back a row of grinning emojis.

_You’re not too bad yourself Kent Parson_

He switched to the group chat with Eric and Jack.

_You never told me your friend March was a massive troll_  
_Jack: ???_  
_Jack: Don’t talk like that about her, she’s really nice._  
_Eric: oh honey_  
_Jack: Did you run into her under a bridge or something_  
_Eric: okay now I KNOW you’re messing with us_  
_Me: You better fcking know what a troll is Zimms you’re the worst one_

***

They kept texting. March sent him cute dogs and terrible puns, and Kent started keeping track of puns and cat pictures to send back.

One day she sent him, _you wanna eat out tonight_ and a row of winking emojis.

Kent said, “Uh,” out loud to an empty room.

_Me: look I’m flattered and you’re really nice but I’m gay_  
_March: OH MY FUCKING GOD I’M SO SORRY_  
_March: THAT WAS MEANT FOR APRIL_

Kent laughed, relieved.

_Well I hope April wants to eat out!_

She sent him back a row of embarrassed emojis. And then, _she does tho like so much it’s the best thing_

Kent stared at it for a moment, slightly wrongfooted, then decided to just go with it.

_Me: Is there an equivalent emoji to eggplant here_  
_March: Hm IDK now I gotta look_

Kent paged through the emojis himself for a moment.

_Me: [tongue] [cat]?_  
_March: haha or [tongue] [peace-sign]_  
_Me: ?_  
_March: oh you sweet child_  
_March: there’s nothing particularly yonic in the foods but I kind of like [ice-cream] for suggestiveness_  
_March: yonic is vagina-like the way phallic is penis-like if you didn’t know_

Kent didn’t, and he appreciated not being made to ask.

***

Later, he got a text from April.

_why_

It was accompanied by a screenshot.

_[paragraph of ice cream emojis]_  
_April: what_  
_March: blame Kent_

He laughed out loud and sent back, _She came up with that all on her own she can’t blame me._

***

Eric took so long to tie him to the bed that Kent felt kind of bad calling “Yellow,” when Eric went to suck him off. Eric sat up instantly.

“Are you tied too tight, honey? What’s up?”

“This is going to sound weird, but I’m not really in the mood for that,” said Kent, feeling himself blush. “Could we do something else?”

“Sure, sugar,” said Eric, looking confused. Kent got that. Usually they weren’t in the middle of a scene when he didn’t want to do something, and he didn’t have to safeword, could just subtly direct his partner elsewhere. And it wasn’t _bad,_ the thought, he just…wasn’t interested.

“Can I suck you off instead?”

Eric’s eyes lit up as he climbed up to kneel over Kent’s neck.

“You like that better, sweetpea? You want me to feed you my cock while you’re tied up here, totally helpless?”

Kent groaned. “Yes, please, do that, Eric, please.”

“Show me your nonverbal safewords?”

Kent went to poke him and realized at the same time as Eric that he couldn’t.

“Hm. This is why I always immobilize hands or mouth, not both,” said Eric, knitting his brow.

“Here, hand me something that I can drop if I need to safeword,” said Kent. Eric lit up and he hopped off the bed and darted out of the room. He was back in a moment with his car keys, which hung on a ring with a whole bunch of other keys. He set it in Kent’s hand.

“Shake it once if you want your voice back, multiple times to stop everything,” Eric told him. “Show me.” Kent did. “Perfect.” He climbed back onto the bed and slowly fed his dick into Kent’s mouth. Kent focused on relaxing his jaw, using his tongue, making it good for Eric, and he felt his brain lift up and float as his entire world narrowed down to the dick in his mouth. Serenity settled over him. He was here. He didn’t have to think or worry about anything except this blowjob, because Eric had him. Eric was in charge. Eric wouldn’t let him float away, get lost inside his own body.

Time passed. Kent didn’t know how long. Time wasn’t important. But eventually Eric pulled out. Kent let out a small noise of sadness, but didn’t open his eyes. He liked his floaty place.

“You want something in your mouth, sugar?” murmured his dom.

“Mm-hm,” said Kent. Words would pull him up. He didn’t want to come up. Fingers pressed at his lips and he let them in, humming happily and sucking.

“Can I jerk you off?”

“Mm-hm.”

And then a wet hand was on his dick, which he’d largely forgotten about. The low hum of arousal was background noise to subspace. But now someone was touching him and Kent chased the pleasure, bucking his hips up into the hold as much as he could tied spread-eagled.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” said his dom in a low voice. Pleasure built low in Kent’s abdomen, uncomplicated and pure, and then it exploded through the rest of his body.

He came back to himself some time later to find his hands and feet loose and Eric curled up against his chest.

“Hey sugar,” said Eric, smiling. “Back with me?”

“S’pose.”

“You know the drill. Gotta talk to me.”

Kent privately thought it would probably be fine if Eric just let him and Jack fall asleep straight from subspace. But it made Eric feel better to be sure they were back to baseline before he let himself relax all the way, so Kent put up with it.

“Fine,” he grumbled.

***

_March: Hey do u wanna come over_  
_Me: For what_  
_March: Shoot the shit idc_  
_March: Sometimes I want more than text don’t you?_  
_Me: Sure when_

“Where is everyone?” Kent wondered when he arrived to find the house empty but for March.

“Rans and Holtzy have a proposal due so they’re working late, and April’s on a date with May,” answered March unconcernedly.

“A proposal? Like a wedding proposal?”

She laughed. “No, like a contracting thing. For work. You wanna watch a movie? I need to practice painting my nails.”

Kent blinked. “I’m down. But, need?”

“I’m trying to do the trans pride flag and it’s hard.”

Trans pride flag? Kent felt out of his depth. He caught the remote March tossed him and started scrolling aimlessly through Netflix.

“Ooh, let’s watch One Day At A Time. You ever seen that?”

“Nope.”

“Sweet.”

He selected an episode in the first season, and they settled in, offering live commentary as March painted. It wasn’t until the episode ended that she held up her hand for him to admire and he saw the pattern.

“You said that’s the trans pride flag?”

“Yup. Pink for trans girls, blue for trans boys, and white for nonbinary.”

Kent picked at his pant leg for a moment.

“Can you explain the difference between nonbinary and genderqueer?”

“Nonbinary is a blanket term that means everything not male or female. And there’s different kinds. Some people have a gender somewhere in the middle, that’s—roughly speaking, there’s no rules here—genderqueer. Agender is more like not having a gender at all, or having a gender that’s completely unrelated to male or female. Some people don’t feel the need to get specific, so they just say they’re nonbinary.” She shrugged. “That’s what I know from friends and the Internet. I’m pretty solidly a girl.”

“Huh.”

She gestured at the television. “There’s an episode of this with nonbinary people who use different pronouns. Wanna watch it?”

“Yeah, all right.”

***

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” he said after his next therapy appointment.

Robin raised an eyebrow.

“A personal question,” Kent clarified.

“All right. I reserve the right not to answer.”

“Fair. How did you know you were nonbinary?”

They frowned at him. Thinking, Kent told himself, not disapproving. “I suppose I knew ‘woman’ didn’t feel right, so I thought that must mean I was a man. But that didn’t entirely fit either. So when I learned that nonbinary was an option, I knew that was me.”

It was like what March said, Kent thought, about asking yourself what you were.

_Am I a girl?_ he asked himself without thinking about it.

_No. Definitely a dude._

Something solid settled in his bones.

_Okay. Cool._

***

_Me: Hey do u wanna come to my birthday party_  
_Me: Bring the gang_  
_Me: I mean if they wanna come_  
_Me: It’s mostly going to be hockey players_  
_Me: It’s okay if you don’t_  
_March: When and where_

***

Kent and March got into a One Day at a Time habit. Or rather, Kent did, and March was more than happy to rewatch it with him. Kent wasn’t patient enough to watch all of the episodes together, but he live-texted his reactions to her and they met up when they could.

_Me: Wait I thought Elena was gay_  
_March: Just be patient_

_Me: oh my god Elena I’m crying_

_Me: HOLY SHIT DID ELENA JUST  
March: YUUUUP_

_Me: THE DRESS_  
_Me: THE DRESS IS A SUIT_  
_Me: GOD BLESS ABUELITA_  
_March: ISN’T IT AMAZING_

_March: Save Hello Penelope to watch w/me plz  
Me: Yeah ok_

 

“No, Penelope! Don’t do it!” Kent said to the television. “You can’t just quit therapy! And you especially can’t just not take your meds!”

March didn’t say anything, just wrapped an arm around his shoulders and tugged him in. Kent let himself be held.

“I get it though?” he said, when the episode had ended and March had paused the autoplay. “Like. It was an impulse decision. Brought on by intrusive thoughts. I feel that.” He leaned over and rested his head on her shoulder. “I’m so glad she has Schneider.”

“BroTP,” agreed March. At least, Kent thought she was agreeing, going by the tone.

“Huh?”

She blinked at him. “…That would take more effort to explain than the joke is worth. Like, it’s kind of a weird friendship? But it works, and they’re good for each other. I like it.”

“And he’s not, like…” Kent trailed off, trying to put it into words. “Like, a big macho dude who gets weird about emotions. I never saw that enough, growing up.”

Ransom and Holster chose that moment to burst in through the door.

“Hi, hon. Hi, Kent. Is there food?” Ransom said plaintively.

“Leftover chili in the fridge,” said March.

“What are you up to?” asked Holster.

“Kent was just explaining how refreshing it is that Schneider is such a good example of non-toxic masculinity.”

Kent blinked. He was?

“Cool,” said Holster. “It’s always neat when you get somebody into that stuff who’s, like, not a liberal arts college graduate? A dude who’s like. A man’s man.”

Kent _flinched._ Hard enough that he knew March could feel it.

He didn’t give her a chance to ask.

He stood up, saying, “Yeah. I should head out now though. Later,” without making eye contact with anyone. He shoved his feet into his shoes and darted out the door before Holster could say anything more.

He was almost to the car before March appeared on the porch.

“Hey!” she said, hurrying down to meet him.

“I gotta _go,_ March,” he said, stopping but not looking at her.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “If that’s what you need. Just, I’ve got your back, okay? I’ll yell at Holster if you need me to. And I’m here whenever you’re ready to talk.”

Kent nodded mutely, got into the car, turned his keys in the ignition, and drove off.

He almost rear-ended the car at the stoplight by misjudging how fast he was going, and only avoided the collision by stomping hard on his brakes. Christ. He wasn’t safe to be driving, was he?

He pulled off into a shopping center, parked the car, and buried his face in his hands.

He let himself replay the interaction.

_A dude who’s like. A man’s man._

It was just as bad the second time.

_What the fuck? What’s wrong with me?_

It felt wrong, it felt like someone else’s descriptor, it felt like something that’d been there his whole life but was only now making itself known.

_Am I a girl?_

_Yes._

Oh, fuck.

A chill ran down his back and his breath caught.

_What do you mean, yes?_ he demanded of himself.

But there it was.

_Yes._

A ball of undefinable emotion curled up in his throat until he choked on it, and abruptly he didn’t want to think about it anymore. He threw the car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot, taking turns too fast and doing ten miles over the speed limit. He finally pulled into his own driveway, reached to turn off the car, and discovered his hand was shaking.

_Yes._

***

In the light of day, the whole thing seemed faintly ridiculous. He couldn’t be a girl. He would have noticed if he’d grown up hating his body.

A voice in the back of his head reminded him that March had said nothing about hating her body.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he picked up the phone and called her.

“Kent?”

He didn’t know how to say it.

“Sorry. It’s nothing.”

“Kent. Just say it.”

“Didn’t you—” He couldn’t, even he knew that was rude, he couldn’t ask her. But now she was expecting an answer. Maybe he could reframe it.

“I don’t mind having a dick.”

As it came out of his mouth, he realized how bizarre it sounded out of context. But March didn’t sound confused when she said, “Not everyone does. I did, enough to get rid of it, but not enough that I didn’t like having sex with it.”

It didn’t make sense, of course not everyone did, men who were men didn’t mind having a dick.

“You’re a girl.”

“Yep,” March agreed. “And even if I’d wanted to keep my penis, that wouldn’t have made me less of one.”

He could tell that what she was saying was supposed to make sense, was supposed to answer his question, but he couldn’t make himself think.

“To put it another way, not minding having a penis doesn’t mean you must be a guy.”

Oh.

There it was.

“It’s like I said. It’s what gender you feel. That’s what you are. There’s no prerequisites. Not even dysphoria.”

“Oh,” he said dumbly.

They were silent for a few seconds.

“Listen, in a perfect world I would be happy to sit on the phone as long as you wanted. But I’m actually at work right now,” said March. “Is there anything else you need me for? Are you safe?”

The phrase jarred Kent. That was what people asked him when they thought he might hurt himself.

“I’m safe,” he said. “I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up.

_Am I a girl?_

_Nah._

_…Am I a guy?_

_…Also nah._

That night, Kent found himself opening Safari on his iPhone and searching, ‘what does it mean if you sometimes feel like a guy and sometimes not?’.

There’s a word for it.

***

_March: Can I come over?_

March didn’t usually come to Kent’s, for no particular reason other than that Kent had the apartment of someone who was asked to move in a very short amount of time and who spends too much time at someone else’s house to care very much, while March lived with four other people and thus had an entire house. But there was no particular reason why she _shouldn’t._

Kent was sort of expecting an interrogation, and wasn’t looking forward to it, especially because today’s answer was back to _Yes,_ but also Kent doesn’t actually want to avoid March.

_Me: Sure_

***

Kent let March in, and she immediately turned and plastered Kent in a hug.

“You wanna talk about it yet?”

Kent shrugged. “No? But also maybe I have to?”

“Fair.” She made herself at home on the couch. Kent sat beside her. There was silence.

“You don’t seem surprised,” said Kent eventually. “You haven’t seemed surprised this whole time.” _Do you have some sort of trans-dar,_ was on the tip of Kent’s tongue, but saying it would make it real.

March made eye contact and said, quietly, calmly, eyes burning with solidarity, “Most people who bother to question their gender in the first place aren’t cis.”

_Oh._

Kent felt like _oh_ a lot lately, it seemed.

“First day we met, I thought maybe. And then that night with Holster, and I was sure.” Kent leaned against her shoulder, as much to break the eye contact as to seek comfort. “So,” said March, still calmly, like Kent didn’t have to have an answer yet, “do you have a pronoun you’d like me to try out? Just between us?”

Kent nodded, but couldn’t say anything.

“You need me to guess?”

Nod.

“They?”

“Not today,” Kent whispered.

“Okay. She?”

Kent nodded a third time.

“Cool. This is my friend Kent, and she’s a badass hockey player. She’s so badass, her name’s on the Stanley Cup twice. But she also watches sitcoms with me and she’s got two awesome boyfriends.”

Kent’s first thought was that it felt like winning the Stanley Cup, but that wasn’t quite right. It was like nothing so much as being kissed by someone who loved her. Kent felt her face crease in an involuntary smile against March’s shoulder.

Then she buried her face in her hands as a thought she’d been trying not to have for some time finally made itself known. “What is Jack going to say?” she muttered. Then, “Oh, God, what is _Eric_ going to say? Eric’s _gay._ ”

“They’ll still love you,” said March confidently. Kent glared at her. “No, really. I’m not saying nothing will change or that everything will be easy. But you don’t just stop loving somebody because of a little thing like gender unless you’re a bigot. And you already know they’re not bigots.”

_We haven’t said I love you yet,_ Kent wanted to say. But she wanted to believe March, so she didn’t.

***

The next day Kent let himself into Jack and Eric's house and found Jack cooking.

"Hey, Kenny," he said, smiling that smile that had always made Kent weak.

"Hi, Jack. Where's Eric?"

"Grocery store. Apparently I was wrong when I said we had enough garlic. He should be back soon."

"You want help?"

"There's not really enough work for two people. You can set the table, I suppose."

Kent started getting out plates wordlessly.

"You're quiet," said Jack eventually.

"I'm not Eric," said Kent, shrugging.

"No, you're not, but you seem distracted."

That was Jack. Never actually ask the question, just make pointed remarks until you told him yourself.

Kent couldn't make his voice work. He just opened the silverware drawer and got out three of everything.

"Kenny," said Jack, a note of worry creeping into his voice, "are you okay?"

Kent shrugged and continued distributing silverware. There was a click as Jack turned the heat down, and then he was crossing the room to stand next to Kent and put a hand on his shoulder. Kent turned and Jack pulled him into a hug. Kent buried his face in Jack's neck and took a small, gasping breath.

Kent couldn’t make his voice work, but he couldn’t just not answer, they were just going to go back and forth getting more and more anxious like this, so he pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and opened Safari. He still had the tab open from his search, so he handed it to Jack, who took it.

He counted eleven heartbeats before Jack responded—though his heart was pounding like he’d just gotten off a three-minute shift, so that was less time than it could have been.

“Is this you?” asked Jack quietly, and Kent nodded into his neck.

“Okay,” said Jack, and dropped a kiss on top of Kent's head, handing him back his phone. “Thank you for trusting me. And this doesn’t change anything, okay? You just tell us if you want to use different pronouns or something.”

"Okay," whispered Kent. Jack rocked him back and forth slightly.

“Does Bits know?”

“Uh-uh.”

"You wanna tell him tonight, or later?"

"Later," said Kent. "'M scared."

"How come?"

Jack was _safe_ in a way that Eric wasn’t. Which was rich because Jack was the one who could still clash with Kent like hot oil and water and Eric was the bridge between them.

Was there a substance that makes oil talk to water? Kent made a mental note to look it up.

"You're bi," said Kent quietly. "Eric isn't."

"Ah," said Jack. "Well. I can't really speak for him. But I've got your back, okay, Kenny?"

The car door slammed closed just then, and, absolutely certain that Eric would be able to read the mood in the room, Kent leaned up to kiss Jack somewhat desperately, so that when Eric opened the front door, all he saw was his boyfriends making out by the table.

"Lord in tarnation, are you letting dinner burn?" said Eric.

***

Kent waited two days to tell Eric. He found Eric curled up on the couch, watching the Great British Bake-Off. He sat on the couch too and quietly tilted over, putting his head in Eric’s lap.

“Hey, honey,” said Eric, resting a hand on the back of his neck. Usually this made Kent relax instantly, but today, it wasn’t working.

Eric noticed at once.

"You okay, sweetheart?"

"Yeah," said Kent. He could feel Eric making a face at him.

"You seem kinda off. You want to kneel?"

"I'm good," said Kent. They lapsed back into silence until Kent just said it.

"I think sometimes I'm a girl."

Whatever Eric had been expecting him to say, that wasn't it.

"Explain that more, sweetheart?" he said after several seconds of silence.

Kent swallowed. This was it. Too late to back out now.

"I think I'm genderfluid." It was the first time he'd said the word out loud.

Eric was quiet for several terrifying seconds.

"Okay," he said eventually. "Thank you for telling me, sweetpea."

An icy hand gripped Kent's heart.

"Please say something else," he managed.

"Oh, honey," said Eric, stroking Kent's hair. "You know I don't mind, right? We're good. C'mere, let me hold you."

Kent sat up gratefully and let Eric tug him close and wrap him in a warm, enveloping hug. He could have cried at how good it felt, just being held. But…

"Do you still want me?" he asked Eric's shoulder, the words tumbling out before he could reframe them. “I mean. You’re gay. And I’m—I’m scared.”

"Ohh, I see." Eric was quiet for a moment, though his arms tightened. "I want to say nothing will change, sweetheart, that it won't make a difference if it's you. But I need to wrap my head around it first, okay? I need to be sure I'm being honest and not just telling you what you want to hear." He dropped a kiss to Kent's temple. "Does Jack know?"

Kent nodded. "Sorry."

"You got nothing to apologize for, honey," said Eric firmly. "You're allowed to do this at your own pace."

Something sick-feeling was wrapping around Kent's windpipe, and he didn't answer. He wanted to say something cruel, to make Eric hate him so at least Kent’s rejection would be on his own terms, but before it came out, Eric kissed him on the head again.

"You're still freaking out, aren't you, sweetheart?" He sighed. "I'm not gonna stop caring about you, okay? I'm not."

That could mean anything, though. Kent could care about someone he no longer wanted in his life.

"I love you." Eric's voice caught. Kent held his breath, certain he had imagined it. "Maybe it's a bad time to say it, but I do, Kent. I love you." His voice was stronger now, and there was no denying the words. Kent's eyes abruptly filled with tears.

"I love you, too," he choked out. Eric squeezed him tightly.

Jack got home perhaps thirty or forty minutes later. Kent and Eric hadn’t moved.

“Hey, Bits. Hey, Kent.” He carried three plastic bags into the kitchen and began to unload them.

“Did you get all of your errands run, sweetpea?” Eric asked.

“Yup.” Jack finished with the bags and came over to sit beside Eric on the sofa and kiss him, a loving, lingering thing. He stroked Kent’s cheek, so Kent looked up. Jack was smiling at him, a little sadly.

“What’s up, Kenny?” he asked quietly.

“I told him,” whispered Kent. His vocal cords appeared to have taken leave.

“And?” Jack looked at Eric.

“And I told him I love him, but I don’t know what this changes and I need to think,” said Eric.

Kent tucked his face back into Eric’s shoulder and started to shake a little again. Jack petted his hair.

“Proud of you,” he said quietly.

All at once, it was too much. His breath caught, hard, and he gasped painfully into Eric’s chest.

“Oh, hey, bud, come here,” said Jack, and got up and came around to sit on Kent’s other side. Then, somehow, he reached around and pulled both of them into his lap, or near enough that Kent was suddenly sandwiched between them. Kent would’ve laughed if he could draw air. Instead, he reached blindly for Jack’s arm and clung.

"Breathe with me?" Jack said in a rumble Kent could feel through his back, and started exaggerating his breathing.

Kent tried, but his sense of timing was all off. "Can you breathe in for four for me?" asked Jack, and began to count. "One. …Two. …Three. …Four." Eric reached around to rest a hand on the back of his neck and squeeze gently.

That was easier. Jack said the numbers farther apart each time until Kent was taking deep breaths. He was so worn out he dreaded having to move.

“You wanna sleep, honey?” asked Eric. Kent nodded, but clutched at Jack tighter, unwilling to let them stop holding him, clinging selfishly to their comfort.

“I got this,” said Jack, a smile in his voice, and he picked Kent bodily up off the couch. Kent let out an undignified squeak of surprise, and he felt Jack’s chest shake with suppressed laughter as he carried him, bridal-style, to the recliner and sat down with Kent in his lap. He made the footrest extend and soon Kent was spread out on top of him, Jack’s huge hands resting between his shoulder blades and on the small of his back, keeping him safe, holding him together.

They fell asleep like that.

***

Lord almighty, thought Bitty, nobody wrote rule books on what to do when your boyfriend turns out to be genderfluid and you are not and never have been the least bit bisexual.

“Try visualization?” Jack suggested that night, after Kent had gone home and Bitty had spilled his dilemma. “That sometimes helps me figure out what I want.” But Bitty could hardly wrap his brain around the concept at all. Kent looked exactly the same as he always had, talked and acted exactly the same, and it was one thing to know intellectually that gender didn’t necessarily match presentation and another to convince his gut.

Then he turned up without warning and found Kent in a dress.

***

He hadn’t seen Kent in a few days, and he missed him. Kent turned up at their house without asking all the time, and Bitty and Jack encouraged that, so there wasn’t anything wrong with making the impulse decision to pull off into Kent’s apartment building parking lot when he passed it one day, right? He had every intention of ringing the bell, but then a harried businesswoman came to the door just before him, and handed the door to him, so it would have been rude and inconvenient to stay outside, and Bitty went in and took the elevator up.

He knocked on Kent’s door. Some creaking floorboards, and Kent opened the door wearing a jacket.

It was still the dead of summer. Bitty blinked at him.

“Eric!” said Kent, eyebrows shooting up. “What are you doing here? Not that you aren’t welcome.”

“Just in the neighborhood, and I missed you,” said Bitty. “Are you sick or somethin’? Why are you wearing a coat?”

Kent’s gaze darted away and color flamed high on his cheeks. “Um,” he said, then opened the door wider and gestured Bitty in with a jerk of his head. Bitty stepped in and Kent shut the door. He still wouldn’t look at Bitty. Bitty reached up and placed a hand gently on Kent’s cheek. Kent jumped and glanced at Bitty, through his eyelashes somehow, despite being three inches taller.

“You’re makin’ me nervous, sweetheart,” said Bitty softly. Kent took a deep breath, and shrugged the coat off.

He was wearing a little purple summer dress, the elastic kind that fit to the shape of your chest, with shoulder straps.

Bitty took a long moment just to look at him, very aware that what he said next mattered.

“You look very pretty, sweetheart,” he decided on, voice still soft, still conscious that Kent was giving off vibes of easy-to-spook. Kent gave him a small smile.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “March lent it to me, and I was just—“ He shrugged. “Trying it on.”

“How does it feel?”

Kent looked surprised. “It feels good,” he—she?—said eventually. “Right.”

“Girl day, then?” asked Bitty, as though he was some kind of expert, as though he knew anything about this other than some googling. Kent nodded shyly. Bitty reached up and dropped a kiss on his—her—lips, and got another small smile in return.

“You wanna watch TV or somethin’?”

“Yeah.” She reached out and took Bitty’s hand, like they were on their first date again, and tugged him into the living room.

Of course, their first date wasn’t until well after Bitty had tied Kent up and demanded a blowjob, so perhaps it wasn’t a good comparison. Bitty snickered to himself and followed Kent.

***

He tried the visualization again as they watched, zoning out until he could hardly have told you what show they were watching. _She’s a girl,_ he told himself, and pictured Kent sucking him off. Then him sucking Kent off. Then jerking each other, then fucking. _She’s a girl, she’s a girl._

Nothing.

When he got up to leave, he kissed Kent at the door, long and slow, the kind of kiss that could either turn into sex or simply declare a deep affection. _She’s a girl. This is my girlfriend._

And the affection was there, that was real, but it felt different. A little guiltily, Bitty thought, _This is my boyfriend._

Sparks. Desire. The affection he recognized as romantic love.

He pulled away and made himself smile at Kent.

“See you later, honey.”

***

Kent came over the next day, which happened to be Bitty’s day off, and unobtrusively curled up in the armchair with his phone. His phone? Lord, this was confusing.

“What pronouns should I call you, honey?” Bitty asked him as he moved around the house, trying to sound casual. Kent shrugged.

“Not picky, not today. I don’t think I have a gender today. Is that possible?”

“Probably,” said Bitty, shrugging. “Lord, _I_ don’t know.”

Kent tapped away at his phone. A minute later, he reported, “March says anything’s possible because the division of gender is a social construct so we can construct it however we want.”

“…I went to Samwell, and I’m still not sure I understand that sentence,” Bitty confessed. Kent laughed.

“Imagine how I feel, the dumb jock who never went to college!”

“You’re not dumb, honey, you’re smart as a whip,” said Bitty matter-of-factly. Kent smiled to himself, like Bitty had given him a sweet secret to hold. Bitty wanted to kiss him. So he crossed the room and did.

There was an undercurrent of hesitancy to the kiss, as though both of them were afraid to take it further and trying not to show it. Kent broke away first.

“Can I kneel?” he said suddenly. Bitty blinked.

“Sure, sweetheart. You want anything in particular?”

“Hold me on your knee? And cuff me?”

“Sure thing.” Bitty ran upstairs and came back with the cuffs. Kent turned around so Bitty could cuff his hands behind his back and folded gracefully to the floor, laying his head on Bitty’s knee. Bitty draped a hand over his eyes, letting the weight of his arm settle on Kent’s head. Kent exhaled, long and slow and satisfied, and relaxed into the hold.

Bitty realized, with a flicker of irritation, that everything he’d been in the middle of doing was now on hold, and he’d forgotten about it entirely. He turned on the television and muted it.

“’M yours?” murmured Kent, voice thick with subspace.

“Mine,” Bitty affirmed. “All mine.” He closed his hand briefly over Kent’s face in a squeeze of affection.

A car door slammed. Jack was back from the gym. He came in a moment later, looking edible, hair still wet from the shower and a healthy flush to his cheeks.

“Hi, honey,” said Bitty. “Could you get the laundry? I’ve got a lap full of sub.” Jack grinned and set down his gym bag, coming over to kiss Bitty, and then lean down and kiss Kent.

“Sure thing.” And he went off to the laundry room.

“Thank you, honey, that’s perfect, set that there,” said Bitty when he came back. Bitty sent him on another three chores before he recognized the ease of Jack’s smile and the soft set of his eyes, and mentally replayed the somewhat effusive praise he’d been doling out like candy. “You’ve been such a good boy,” he murmured. “I think you deserve a reward.” Jack beamed at him and sat by his feet. Kent shifted restlessly on his knee. Bitty felt a pang of guilt. “You want to be good, too, Kenny? You want to suck Jack off for me?”

“Mm-hm,” said Kent, sitting up. Bitty took his hand away and noted the glazed expression a little smugly.

“Well. I’m curious, Kenny, can you get Jack’s shorts off without your hands?”

Kent didn’t answer, just moved over and attempted to get his teeth around the waistband of Jack’s gym shorts. Jack obligingly lifted his hips so Kent could pull the shorts down with some effort, first one side, then the other. The boxers took him more effort, but eventually he figured out he could get a good hold without biting Jack if he went for the fabric lower down. Jack surreptitiously helped him.

By the time Kent got them tugged down to Jack’s knees, Jack’s dick was starting to swell, and Kent stuck his face in Jack’s crotch happily and began to lick. Jack let out a noise of appreciation and reached over with both hands to help arrange Kent into a position lying against one of his legs, so Kent wouldn’t overbalance.

“Yes, just like that, honey,” Bitty breathed. “Tease him a little.” Kent obliged until Jack was shifting side to side with the obvious need to thrust. “I like how you’re being careful not to choke him, Jack, sweetpea,” said Bitty. “Kenny, I think he’s ready.” His own dick was starting to press against the inside of his pants, so he unzipped them and let one hand rest there. Kent swallowed Jack down and Jack let out a cry. Bitty pulled himself out of his boxers and spat in his palm. The lube was only in the next room, but he’d only needed to leave Jack alone once and come back to find him scared and confused to make it a rule never to leave his subs alone, ever. God only knew how it would affect Kent.

He allowed himself a small sigh as he stroked. Kent did something that made Jack make a wrenched noise. “Oh, good job, Kent, honey,” said Bitty. “He liked that, I could hear it. See if you can make him do it again.” Kent hummed happily and Jack groaned.

“You look so good, Kenny,” he said, voice husky. “Feel so good, too.”

“So pretty with those cuffs on,” agreed Bitty. “And you look so happy just making Jack feel good.” The corner of Kent’s lips twitched in what would be a smile if his mouth wasn’t full.

Kent pulled off and licked at Jack’s balls, and Jack whined. “Let me come, Bits,” he moaned, and, oh, Bitty was in charge of that, wasn’t he?

“All right, sweetheart,” he said, stroking himself faster. “Kenny, make him come for me, love?”

Kenny grinned, bright and uninhibited, and sucked Jack down again with purpose. Bitty listened to the beautiful symphony of noises from them both, Jack a series of moans and gasps now coming one after another, Kent humming—to cause a vibration, Bitty knew, but he sounded like nothing so much as someone heartily enjoying the taste of what was in their mouth. He watched almost lazily as Jack got close, able by now to tell exactly where he was by the expression on his face, and he stilled the hand on his own dick so as not to miss it when Jack came.

When Jack finished chasing aftershocks, he pulled Kent up into his lap, undid his pants with shaking hands, and began to jerk Kent hard and fast.

“ _God,_ ” said Kent, and Bitty tipped over the edge. Kent wasn’t far behind, coming as Bitty was still riding aftershocks. Jack kissed him, not hard, but possessive, lingering. Bitty took advantage of it and darted to the kitchen sink—really the open floorplan was the best decision he’d ever made regarding houses—to wet several paper towels and bring them back to his subs for cleanup.

“Can I let him out?” asked Jack, voice thick with subspace.

“Yes, you can,” said Bitty, and Jack reached for the key to the handcuffs.

“Good?” asked Kent in a wavering voice, and Bitty pressed kisses to his face.

“So good,” he assured him. “So good, he came so hard, I was watching.” Cum cleaned up, and everybody fully dressed once more, he sat back down and reached out for them, crooning, “You’ve been so good, both of you, so good.” They curled up by his feet, one on each knee, their expressions blissed out—not identical, Bitty didn’t expect any two subs experienced subspace exactly the same—but both sated and trusting and happy. Bitty remembered that the laundry needed to be switched again, and sighed a little. Nobody was going anywhere fast. Ah, well.

***

When Kent came up properly, they climbed up into Eric’s lap and tucked their face against his chest. His arm came up to steady them. They knew they were being clingy, but they couldn’t bring themself to care.

Kent _knew_ they didn’t need Eric to adore every inch of them, that that wasn’t what a healthy relationship or even a plausible one looked like, but…

But Kent was still borderline, and they still craved Eric’s love and approval with everything they had.

They lifted their head and kissed Eric, somewhere between sweetly and desperately. Eric reached up and cradled their face with one hand like he knew.

“Do you know, yet?” said Kent eventually. Eric blinked at them, then kissed them again, just as desperate, searching, and, not finding. He broke away and stared off into space for a moment, apparently thinking.

“If I let myself keep thinking of you as my boyfriend,” Eric said eventually, “then I still want to? But if I make myself think of you as a girl…” He shook his head and laughed a little, a sad thing. “I’m gay as a jaybird, honey.”

It stung more than Kent thought it had a right to. But they made themself consider it, head pillowed on Eric’s shoulder. Jack got up quietly and left the room. To give them privacy, Kent told themself, not because he was disgusted or something.

_If I let myself keep thinking of you as my boyfriend…_

Kent could live with that, maybe.

_If I make myself think of you as a girl…_

Particularly if Kent wasn’t a girl.

“What if it’s not a girl day, and I feel fine dressing like a guy, but it’s not a guy day either, it’s one of the nonbinary ones, and I don’t tell you because I want to have sex with you? Is that lying?”

Eric looked startled. “It doesn’t matter to _me,_ sweetheart. I try to get it right in my head because I thought it mattered to _you._ ”

“I mean, it does. Some days. But other days, not so much.” Like today. Today Kent knew they weren’t a guy, but it didn’t much matter to them if Eric called them one.

“Then that’s fine, sweetie, if it doesn’t play hell on your dysphoria. As long as you know I’m thinking of you as my boyfriend, and you’re okay with that.”

Kent could see a future where they might not be okay with that, but for now? It would do.

Jack brought the laundry in, and, oh. That made more sense.

***

On the next girl day, Kent brought her purple dress to the house.

She’d sent a selfie to March, who had responded with around a dozen heart-eyes emojis, so Kent didn’t think she needed to worry about giving it back too quickly.

She and Jack went to the gym together, and when they were showered and safely back home, she slipped on the dress and curled up on the sofa, fighting the urge to cover herself up. Jack grinned at her from the kitchenette.

“You look pretty, Kenny,” he said. Kent felt herself blush. “C’mere,” said Jack, reaching out both hands. Kent stood up slowly and walked over, reminding herself not to hunch her shoulders. Jack was looking at her with naked appreciation. There was no need to hide.

She reached Jack and he drew her into a fierce kiss that suddenly went soft and gentle and made Kent feel _cherished._ Jack broke away slowly and kissed her forehead too, and then down the nearer side of her face, as though he needed his lips on some part of her.

“I love you,” said Kent, like a goddamn idiot.

“I love you, too,” said Jack, and. Maybe not such an idiot. Kent recaptured his lips, needing to kiss him harder, more, and Jack wrapped his arms around her, one pulling her waist to his, one coming around her ribs so his big hand rested between her shoulder blades, a mirror of the time the other day when she fell asleep on him, and she wondered if he knew how safe and held it made her feel.

Teenager-Jack would never have had the emotional intelligence, but she thought maybe adult-Jack did.

Kent ground into Jack and groped his ass unashamedly. Jack snickered into her lips but didn’t break away.

The problem with being a grown-ass adult was that Kent could no longer get off dry-humping, but there was no other position that really allowed for this much physical contact and kissing. They were pressed together from thighs up, limbs entangling as Jack let the counter take their weight, kissing as though they’d die if they stopped.

Jack broke away to nibble down her jawline and whisper, “Can I finger you?” into Kent’s ear.

Arousal shot through her. “I’m not, uh, cleaned out,” said Kent, stubborning through the flames her face must be in. “But yeah, you can.”

“I’ll wear a glove,” said Jack. “Jump.”

“Huh?”

He wrapped one hand around each of her inner thighs. “Jump,” he repeated. Kent got it.

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” said Kent, and jumped. Jack lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. He snaked one arm under to hold her up, which was good because if Kent had to hold on tightly enough to stay put under her own power, her dick was going to get squished in a way she did not want to experience. “Ridiculous,” Kent repeated into his neck as Jack climbed the stairs, but she was so grateful not to have to stop touching him that she could barely breathe if she thought about it too hard.

Jack found a glove and the lube, and he put Kent down and pulled her underwear free without taking the dress off.

“This isn’t my dress,” Kent protested.

“Wash it later,” said Jack, and slipped a lubed, gloved hand between her cheeks as he nibbled at her neck. The sensations amplified each other, and Kent groaned and rubbed against Jack’s thigh. Which—ouch, denim. She reached down and undid his jeans, shoving at them. Jack reached back with his free hand and pushed pants and boxers down to his knees. Then he pressed the tip of a finger inside.

Kent whined, torn between rocking forward into Jack’s dick and backward onto his hand. Jack took pity on her and pushed the finger in steadily.

The front door opened. “Hello?” called Eric.

Jack pulled away to call, “We’re up here!”

Footsteps, and then, “Oh my Lord, don’t you two look a sight.”

Kent was sure they did, standing in the middle of the bedroom having frantic, half-dressed sex like they couldn’t wait for a bed.

“Joining us, Bits?” panted Jack.

“It looks like you have it covered,” said Eric. “I don’t even know where I’d go. Unless you want to be fingered, too?”

Jack shook his head, red tinting his cheeks. “Can’t,” he said shortly.

“Then I will _gladly_ sit and watch,” said Eric, and moved over to the armchair. Kent lost track of him as Jack crooked his finger _just_ right. Kent whined again, a high, thin sound, and rutted harder into Jack, who groaned and held her on his dick with the hand fingering her.

Endgame.

Kent squirmed and let loose all manner of filthy noises, interspersed with “ _Jack, fuck, Jack,_ ” as her orgasm built and built and finally crashed over her.

Her knees buckled, and Jack caught her before she could go anywhere. They were stuck for a moment while Jack tried to hold her up and take the glove off, and then Eric was there, taking Kent’s weight and leading her to collapse on the bed, tugging Jack along by the hand and plopping him down beside her. Without further ado, he climbed into Jack’s lap—he wasn’t naked, Kent noticed, just had his dick out, wet and red—and stroked them both together with a handful of lube. Kent made herself keep her eyes open, knowing the sight of her boyfriends coming together would be worth it.

It was. Jack came first, biting his lip and grunting, and Eric kept going, obviously overstimulating him, but he just groaned and stayed put until Eric tensed and jerked and added to the mess.

They sat there for a moment, panting, and then Eric tilted his face up to kiss Jack, long and filthy. Then he climbed off and flopped beside Kent, leaning over to kiss her too—less filthy, but no less an expression of love and claiming.

“How you doing, baby girl?” asked Jack, letting himself fall backwards and making the whole bed shake when he landed. A knot of joy formed behind Kent’s sternum.

“Good,” said Kent, unable to keep her face from splitting in a disproportionate smile. “Really good.”

***

So most days Kent was a he, and when preseason started he started growing his flow out so that on days when he needed just a touch more femininity, he could pull it up into a ponytail, and Jack and Bitty would know those were the days when they should say _Kenny_ and _she_ and Kent would feel her heart swell. And Eric didn’t sleep with her those days, not just her, but sometimes they would put Jack in the middle and that still worked just fine.

Eric still kissed her like he meant it. He still held her in his lap and stroked her hair, and the first time he called her princess she cried.

***

“So. I’m genderfluid,” said Kent.

Robin granted him a rare smile.

“Congratulations.”

Kent bit his lip.

“You’re not gonna tell me that it’s just my disease?” The thought had occurred to him a few days before, and it kept coming up. It was starting to make his stomach hurt.

“The lack of stable identity part?”

“Yeah. Like, I can’t even decide on a fucking gender.”

Robin arched an eyebrow. “Does it matter?”

Kent blinked. Replayed it. Nope.

“Huh?”

“Does it matter?” Robin repeated. “Does it matter _why_ you’re genderfluid?”

“Uh. Doesn’t that mean it isn’t a real thing, just my brain fucking with me?”

“No,” said Robin. “It means maybe you weren’t born that way. Something about your brain makes you genderfluid. Does it make a difference whether that thing was your genes or your hormone cocktail or your trauma? The end result is the same.”

“But…” Kent gnawed on his lip. “What if I get better, and it goes away?”

Robin shrugged. “Then it goes away. That’s the thing about gender fluidity. It changes. And you’re allowed to change your label if it turns out it doesn’t fit anymore. It doesn’t mean you were wrong to use it before. Labels are only as useful as we make them.”

It hadn’t really occurred to Kent to think of labels as _useful_ at all.

“My friends are all really attached to their labels. They say the words are important.”

“Words are important because they describe experiences, give us a shorthand to find people with similar experiences, make us feel less alone in the world. They’re important because they allow us to construct our sense of identity. They stop being important as soon as they’re hurting your ability to do those things instead.”

Kent must have looked confused, because Robin shifted in their chair and tried again.

“Look at it this way. Maybe one day you’ll get better, so much so that the set of experiences we call Borderline Personality Disorder won’t describe your daily life anymore. Maybe you’ll start finding that the people you find using that label are so much sicker than you that you feel like an imposter using the same word. Maybe you’ll decide to stop using that label for yourself, because it isn’t helping you anymore. And, Kent?” Robin leaned forward and fixed him with a look. “That is so much healthier than sitting here and deciding never to get better because borderline is who you are.”

There was a voice in Kent’s head saying _but borderline_ is _who I am, it was the word that made my whole life finally make sense,_ but the much louder voice, the one that came out of his mouth, said, “The word’s not the important part, the getting better is.”

Robin nodded at him decisively. “Precisely.”

“And for genderfluid…it isn’t the word that’s important, it’s…” Robin waited patiently while he thought it through. “It’s knowing that what I’m feeling when somebody calls me a man and I’m not is dysphoria and how to make it go away.”

Robin smiled at him again. Two in one day. That had to be a personal best.

“You’re doing very well. The progress you’ve made since you started coming to me is excellent.”

“I’m a professional athlete, I have to be the best at everything,” Kent quipped. And then, “Thanks.”

He’ll get there. He will.

Whether he does it as a man, or a woman, or genderqueer, or all of them.

He’ll get there.

 

I'm coming to find you if it takes me all night  
Wrong until you make it right  
And I won't forget you  
At least I'll try  
And run, and run tonight

Everything will be alright

I wasn't shopping for a doll  
To say the least, I thought I'd seen them all  
But then you took me by surprise  
I'm dreaming 'bout those dreamy eyes  
I never knew, I never knew  
So take your suitcase, 'cause I don't mind  
And baby doll, I meant it every time  
You don't need to compromise  
I'm dreaming 'bout those dreamy eyes  
I never knew, I never knew but it's alright

Everything will be alright

~Everything Will Be Alright, The Killers


End file.
